


Oh, Claudia

by OzQueen



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Crush, F/F, Forced Proximity, Hair, High School, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:25:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Dwyer will look up at any moment, nostrils flaring, and her eyes will lock on the door. She'll march across the room, throw the door open, and Claudia and Ashley will be flooded with light, stammering to explain why they're there. In the closet. After class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Claudia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piscaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/gifts).



Claudia finally understands that look her mother gives her sometimes; that look that comes with the _voice._ The voice that says, “Oh, Claudia.”

Because that voice is in Claudia's head right now. Oh, Claudia. It's a totally deserved voice; a totally understandable tone of disappointment. Oh, Claudia. How do you get yourself into these situations? Why can't you act your age? What sort of seventeen-year-old girl shuts herself away in closets, playing Nancy Drew?

Oh, Claudia.

Ashley fidgets worriedly in the narrow space in front of her, peering through the wooden slats of the closet door. The cupboard smells of paint, and something earthier – clay, maybe, though Claudia can't see any stored beside them in the dim light.

But, most of all, the air smells of Ashley's shampoo, which Claudia thinks will eventually give them away, wafting across the classroom to Mrs. Dwyer's desk. Mrs. Dwyer will look up at any moment, nostrils flaring, and her eyes will lock on the door. She'll march across the room, throw the door open, and Claudia and Ashley will be flooded with light, stammering to explain why they're there. In the closet. After class.

(“Someone is sabotaging art projects after school, Mrs. Dwyer, and we came back here to catch them.” Even the real excuse sounds made up.)

Ashley turns, her arm brushing Claudia's breast. “What time is it?” she whispers.

Claudia watches Mrs. Dwyer through the slats in the door. “Um,” she whispers. She's too afraid to lift her arm to look at her watch; there are too many canisters full of rainbow-stained paintbrushes, too many cobbled pyramids of malleable erasers and boxes of graphite pencils. Too many things here that could so easily fall to the floor, giving them away in an instant.

Ashley doesn't ask again. Her hair hangs in a thick braid down her back, fastened with nothing and trailing to a loose end. Claudia stares at it and breathes the scent rising from it and wonders again how exactly she got into this mess.

She can never say no to Stacey, either. Maybe it's just a weakness for blue-eyed blondes that keeps getting her into these ridiculous situations.

Claudia bites her lip and watches Mrs. Dwyer shift one stack of papers to the side of her desk before pulling another closer to her.

Ashley moves in sympathetic tandem with Claudia's stifled groan. She glances over her shoulder, looking strangely apologetic. “At least,” she whispers, barely audible in the still air of the closet, “nobody can come in to damage anything while she's here.”

Claudia just nods. She hasn't been caught up in the vandalism in any way, but it still makes her angry, knowing someone has deliberately damaged some of the projects stored in the classroom. When Ashley had asked for her help, she had agreed without much hesitation.

But hiding in a closet waiting for a mystery vandal seems rather stupid now. Mrs. Dwyer had walked in with a cup of coffee and a stack of papers that needed grading, and Ashley and Claudia had panicked.

Now it's too late to simply walk out again, even if they do have a somewhat legitimate excuse for being there.

The end of Ashley's braid tickles the bare skin of Claudia's arm. Claudia glances back, but there's nowhere to go. The shelves behind her are packed with art supplies, all of which would make torrential noise if they came tumbling down. She dare not take a step back.

She inches a little closer to Ashley, feeling the heat rise off her skin. Ashley seems to press back against her, not willing to stand too close to the door in case she accidentally swings it open.

“How long do you think she'll stay?” Claudia asks softly. Her lips brush Ashley's ear and she almost jerks away. Too close.

Ashley shivers and looks back at her with wide eyes. She doesn't say anything.

Claudia can feel herself going red. She concentrates on Mrs. Dwyer's shadow on the other side of the classroom and tries to keep her distance. It's near impossible to stand in such a small space without brushing Ashley's body a little, though.

Ashley begins to fidget, carefully lifting one arm to rub at her nose. “I have to sneeze,” she whispers, eyes wide.

Claudia shakes her head pleadingly. Her own nose begins to tickle with a weird sort of sympathy. “Don't,” she whispers. “If she catches us now...”

Ashley squeezes her nose with her thumb and finger, eyes screwed shut, shoulders tense. Claudia can feel her heart hammering in her chest. She's sure Mrs. Dwyer is about to discover them; the tension in the air seems loud, there's sweat and heat just radiating from the closet – there's no way she's not aware of them by now.

Ashley's body quivers, but the only noise to escape is a startled, mostly-stifled gasp as her sneeze explodes somewhat inwardly.

Claudia watches Mrs. Dwyer anxiously, but she's reading the paper in front of her with a look of deep interest, and doesn't look up.

(She's definitely not reading Claudia's paper, and for this, Claudia is thankful.)

Both Claudia and Ashley breathe with relief. Claudia releases her tension by resting her forehead down against the back of Ashley's shoulder. Which is a mistake, really, because now she can smell Ashley's shampoo again, and her skin is warm through her thin cotton blouse. Claudia can feel the blood rising to her face again, can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

She wants to get out of the closet, into the cooler air of the classroom, where there is space and light. Room to breathe.

Ashley moves back a little, as though afraid of pressing against the door. She steps on Claudia's toes and whispers a soft apology. Her braid tickles the Claudia's arm again; her hand brushes back against Claudia's thigh as she steadies herself.

Very slowly, Claudia hooks a finger into the loose end of Ashley's braid and slides it downwards, separating the thick coils of hair, watching them fall open against the floral print of Ashley's blouse.

She lifts her finger higher and does it again, slowly inching Ashley's hair free until it's all hanging down her back, loose and crimped. She breathes deeply and sends a careful glance to Mrs. Dwyer, wondering just how long it will take for the released scent of shampoo to drift across the room.

Ashley's standing very still, holding herself stiff, away from Claudia's body.

Claudia runs her hands through Ashley's hair slowly, starting at the base of her neck and dragging her fingers down through the locks carefully. It's slippery-soft and cool against her fingers, trailing down to the small of Ashley's back.

“What are you doing?” Ashley asks after a moment, the whisper dry and light, her eyes wide as she tips her head back.

Claudia doesn't know. She figures she'll have to come up with an answer once they're out in the open again, but right now she can keep it secret. Pretend like it's not really happening.

But it is happening, and she wants to let go with a full-body shiver, something that will no doubt clatter dozens of pencils and paintbrushes down all around them. She holds it in, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin instead. Her fingernails trail against Ashley's scalp, and Ashley closes her eyes and tilts her head back.

Claudia wonders if Ashley is really enjoying this, and then wonders if maybe all of this was some sort of elaborate scheme. Maybe the art vandalism was just a rumour; maybe Ashley just wanted an excuse to squeeze into a narrow space with her and share the same air. Experience the adrenaline that comes with the possibility of almost being caught by someone.

Probably not, she decides, but fantasising about it won't hurt.

When Ashley half-turns to look at her, elbows tucked in, her body bumping and squeezing against Claudia's, her blue eyes are wide. “What are you doing?” she asks again, and Claudia watches the way her tongue slides out to wet her lower lip.

“Nothing,” Claudia whispers back. She can't stop staring at Ashley's mouth. She forces herself to look up again, into her eyes. “Sorry.”

Ashley opens her mouth, and then closes it again. She frowns – the same kind of frown she used to get when Claudia would babysit instead of 'commit' to her art; the sort of frown that means, 'I don't understand you, Claudia Kishi.'

“Sorry,” Claudia whispers again.

Through the narrow slats of the closet door, Mrs. Dwyer's shadow moves. There's a soft tap of china being set down on wood, the coffee cup empty, the piles of papers almost all to the right side of the desk now. Almost done.

Ashley's boot comes down on Claudia's toe again, and her skirt brushes against a blank canvas propped against the wall, the material scraping roughly against the edge of it. It sounds loud, and they both freeze for a moment, anticipating the closet door being thrown open.

“You're going to get us caught,” Ashley says finally, her voice lost in the still air, too low to be called a whisper.

Claudia swallows dryly and vows not to touch Ashley again. Tries to think of an excuse for pulling her hands through her hair like that. (“I was bored. I started reminiscing about slumber parties and playing with people's hair, you know... Just...”)

Just shut up, Claudia.

“What perfume are you wearing, anyway?” Ashley asks, her eyes wide, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hair. “She's going to smell it, you know.”

“I'm not wearing perfume,” Claudia says defensively, her voice perhaps a little too loud. “It's your shampoo that's stinking us out.”

“You are too wearing perfume,” Ashley whispers furious.

“Am not!” Claudia hisses. “I ate a bag of Skittles before I came in here. I bet that's what you can smell.” She huffs a short breath into Ashley's face as though to prove her point.

Ashley looks surprised for a moment, and then angry. And then the corners of her mouth tip up a little and she presses her teeth into her lower lip.

Claudia can immediately feel a giggle rising up in her throat. “No,” she pleads softly, glancing back to Mrs. Dwyer's shadow again. “Shh.”

Ashley's hands come up over her face and her shoulders shake with silent laughter. Claudia is too nervous to really laugh, and the cupboard seems even smaller now, and is still full of that floaty, fruity shampoo smell, and now Ashley's hair is loose and it keeps brushing against Claudia as Ashley sways back and forth, trying to stifle her giggles.

“Shh!” Claudia says, eyes wide as Ashley lets a squeak escape.

For some reason, for the first time since Claudia has known her, Ashley has no intention of being the serious one.

So Claudia goes for a surprise attack, and takes Ashley's face in her hands and kisses her.

She doesn't do anything much – not at first. Just presses her mouth against Ashley's, and feels the last shudders of laughter before shock takes over and Ashley goes completely still. Ashley opens her mouth, and Claudia feels a balloon of adrenaline swell in her chest. She opens her mouth too, her lips sliding over Ashley's, her tongue glancing to the warmth inside.

And then she thinks maybe Ashley opened her mouth not to kiss her back, but to ask what the hell Claudia was doing.

She rockets back so fast she almost collides into the shelves behind her. Almost sends the paintbrushes raining down.

Ashley grips the front of Claudia's t-shirt, eyes wide as saucers, though Claudia can no longer tell if it's from the kiss, or from her almost giving their position away by causing an avalanche.

“You do taste like Skittles,” Ashley says.

Claudia buries her face against Ashley's neck, trying to smother her laughter. She wraps her arms tight around Ashley, trapping her hair against her back, Ashley's waist impossibly small under the billowy cotton blouse.

Ashley winds a fist into Claudia's hair and holds her still, bracelets tinkling softly around her wrist. They stand locked together for several long minutes, the heat in the closet almost stifling, the scent of shampoo or skittles or whatever it is mingling with the acrid smell of paints and erasers.

Mrs. Dwyer's shadow shifts and stretches. The papers on the desk rustle and the chair legs scrape back over the linoleum floor.

“She's leaving,” Claudia whispers in Ashley's ear.

Ashley just nods, her back to the door. Her breath is warm and damp against Claudia's neck.

Claudia watches anxiously as Mrs. Dwyer's shadow paces against the room, heels clicking to the door, which shuts firmly behind her. Ashley doesn't loosen her hold, and Claudia isn't exactly in any hurry to move either.

When it becomes clear Mrs. Dwyer isn't coming back, Claudia reaches forward and pushes the closet door open. A rush of cool air sweeps in and shifts Ashley's loose hair, breathes cool against their sweat-damp skin.

“Come on,” Claudia says, her throat dry. “We've got to get out of here.”

“But the vandal could come back,” Ashley protests, not moving. She looks at Claudia with those sky-blue eyes again. “Maybe they were waiting for Mrs. Dwyer to leave.”

“Well, you're on your own from this point on,” Claudia says apologetically. She pushes past Ashley, hoping to flee before either of them can really analyse the kiss, or the hands through Ashley's hair, or that Claudia's breath totally does smell like Skittles.

Ashley follows her, sweeping her hair back over one shoulder with her hands, taming it back into a smooth mass and twisting it so it sits in place. “Why did you kiss me?” she asks.

“I don't know,” Claudia says, still heading for the door.

Ashley follows her, her pace slower, her boots thumping on the floor with each step. “I didn't know you were into girls,” she said mildly.

“Well, maybe...” Claudia stops at the door and motions for Ashley to be quiet. She creaks it open slowly, peering out to make sure the coast is clear. “Come on,” she says, hoping the subject will be dropped.

“God,” Ashley breathes, and her fingers curl at the back of Claudia's shirt, nails electric against the small of her back. “I really want to go home and paint something, you know? Like your hands in my hair...” She trails her fingers through Claudia's hair as though to reciprocate the earlier thrill, and Claudia bats her away nervously.

“Look,” she says, “I have to get home. We'll – can we not talk about it right now? I’m sorry, okay? I probably shouldn't have...” She finds herself fighting nervous tears, not sure what to make of it all now she's in the open again.

She's kissed Stacey before, but she trusts Stacey, and she knows Stacey likes boys infinitely more than she likes girls, so there's no chance of it escalating and getting beyond something Claudia can easily control.

Ashley leans against a set of lockers nearby. “It's okay,” she says. “Your emotions inspired me, that's all.”

“Great,” Claudia mutters. Trust Ashley to focus more on how she can use the experience for her art. Never mind how Claudia feels. Typical. Another classic Kishi mistake.

“What's wrong now?” Ashley asks, more baffled than annoyed.

“Nothing,” Claudia says. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Ashley says, catching her hand and pulling her back so fast Claudia spins on her own momentum, coming to a stop a bare inch from Ashley's face. “Have lunch with me tomorrow,” she says. “Just us.”

“Just us?” Claudia asks nervously. She glances down at Ashley's mouth, unable to stop herself. The temptation to just kiss her again is really strong, but Claudia resists, mentally promising herself a giant, sugary reward later.

The toe of Ashley's boot taps gently against the toe of Claudia's ballet flat. “I want to talk about the female body,” she says flatly. “And how I can use it in my art.” She traces a finger up the inside of Claudia's arm, releasing the full-body shiver Claudia had fought back earlier.

Claudia gives a nervous laugh and backs away. “Maybe.”

“Please?” Ashley asks, uncharacteristically submissive. She steps closer to Claudia, peeking over her shoulder at the empty corridor, before she presses her mouth to hers in a soft kiss.

Claudia feels a swoop of adrenaline again, and her fingertips burn. She tells herself it's probably a bad idea to kiss Ashley at all – just talking to Ashley usually ends in Claudia feeling used; just another tool for creation, like a brush or a pencil; something to be set aside again once Ashley is done with it.

Ashley cups Claudia's cheek with one hand, her thumb stroking delicately against Claudia's closed eyelashes.

Claudia has never been very good at resisting temptation. She presses forward, deepening the kiss for a few blissful, breathless seconds, until the fear of being caught catches up with her again. They break apart with a soft gasp, Ashley's hair somehow tangled around Claudia's fingers again, her mouth red from their kiss.

“Oh,” Ashley breathes, lashes fluttering. “Claudia.”


End file.
